


When you come calling

by LostinFic



Series: Hardy x Hannah ficlets [14]
Category: Broadchurch, Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Masturbation, PWP, Phone Sex, Teninch Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-10 19:00:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10445064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: Alec just needed a friend to talk to, he didn't expect it to end that way.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set during Broadchurch S1, based on my usual headcanon that they have been friends for many years

“What you need is a good shag,” Hannah declares.  
“Sex? That your answer to everything?”  
“I’m serious. It’ll help you relax and fall asleep.”  
Hardy rolls his eyes so hard she probably hears it over the phone. “I’m not going to— to… hook up with some woman.”

In his state, no woman in her right mind would be attracted to him. And if by some miracle one was, he might not even be able to go through with it considering his health. But he doesn’t want to tell Hannah that.

“Well, I’d offer myself but we all know where you stand on that.”

Hardy gawks at his phone. He doesn’t know himself where he stands on that. He would never have let himself think about it before, but he's single now.

“Anyway, I’m not going all the way to Broadchurch for that.”  
“Right.”  
“Unless…”  
Hardy holds his breath.  
“I mean, I don’t have to be with you,” Hannah says.  
“What?”  
Hannah clears her throat and her next words are pronounced in a low, sultry voice. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable? On the bed or a nice chair.”  
“For god’s sake, Han.”  
“Why not?”  
“You’re my friend. It’s weird.”  
“Let me help you!”  
“Help me wank?”  
“Help you relax.”  
“I’m not having phone sex with you.”  
The very thought of trying to tell her sexy things make him cringe.  
“You don’t have to say anything. I’ll do all the talking.” There is that sex kitten voice again.  
“… Yeah?”

He sits down in the arm chair.  
“I’ll tell you about one of my fantasies. Nothing too kinky, don’t worry. Are you comfortable?”  
“Er, yeah.”  
“Me too.” 

She sighs contentedly as if she’s just sunk into a bubble bath. And with that image in mind, the first hint of arousal swirls low in his abdomen. He doesn’t dare do anything about it, still embarrassed.

“Let’s see… We’re— I mean, I’m in a car with a man. He’s driving. It’s summer, the windows are down. I’m wearing a light dress.”

His mind immediately conjures a memory of her from two summers ago. Thin straps over her sunburnt shoulders, and blond curls swishing across her shoulder blades.

“Just a summer dress. Nothing else,” Hannah continues. “The sun shines through it. It makes the fabric see-through.”

He can see the outline of her breasts through it. He doesn’t have to imagine it. She’s often braless at home.

“I put one foot up on the dashboard. I know you hate that but it’s for, let’s say, easier access.”

Hardy swallows thickly and presses his palm over his crotch. The smallest grunt escapes his throat, and he hopes she hasn’t heard it until she answers with a light moan of her own.

“I hike my dress higher up my legs. Slowly. Teasing.” 

He becomes impatient as if she’s teasing him for real. In a way, she is. He wonders what she’s wearing right now. He imagines her in her house, with that dress she’s describing and the phone between her cheek and shoulder. 

“I’m caressing my inner thighs, slowly, getting closer and closer. I make sure you can see what my fingers are doing.”

Hardy gives up and opens his pants, if only to relieve the pressure. He’s hard. And it’s ridiculous to hold off when Hannah’s practically panting into his ear. She wants him to do it.

“Touch yourself.”

His cock twitches under the fabric of his pants. His nails dig into the upholstery.

“I’m moving my fingers in and out, slowly. They come out wet and glistening.”

He thinks he hears a wet sound, but he’s probably imagining things. He rubs his crotch, still over the fabric, and throws his head back with a groan. Hannah gasps.

“Are you…?” he asks.  
“Yes. Hmmmm. Are you still picturing me in the car, pleasuring myself?”  
“Yeah.”

A strap has fallen off her shoulder and reveals the top of her breast. She’s biting her bottom lip and raising her hips to meet her hand. He pushes his pants down and grasps his cock, squeezing tight.

“Fuck.”  
“I need more. A man’s fingers.”

He moves his fist in long strokes, stretching pleasure so as to make the fantasy last longer. Sweat beads on his forehead. Precome leaks from his tip.

How many times has he driven with her in the passenger seat? Taking her to and from the train station in Sandbrook or whenever he visited her in London. Dozens of times. And that night, three, four years ago. Not a summer day by any means. Rain, darkness, cold. He’d driven her home from a common friend’s birthday party. “Keep driving,” she’d said when they’d reached her house. They’d driven aimlessly for hours. Did she think about his fingers in her then?

Hannah’s voice brings him back to the present. And what a present.  
“Can you drive with just one hand?” she asks. 

There’s that teasing note in her voice, he knows what her face looks like right now, mischievous, flirty. The one that makes him stutter. 

“I can,” he replies, joining in the fantasy for the first time. 

He’s rewarded with a chuckle and he’s suddenly laughing too. He relaxes further, rubs his thumb around the head of his cock as he would rub her clit. He can almost feel the summer breeze on his skin. 

“Let’s stop the car.”

His imagination is a step ahead of hers: he’s leaning across the gear stick to kiss her. He’d pull down her dress to bare her breasts as she opened his trousers and finally touched him.

“Han…”  
“I straddle you. You’re so hard and I— hmmm. Fuck me.”

He jerks his hips up, fucking into his fist as he would into her. His palm is slick with sweat and precome, but it’s a poor replacement. He imagines her breasts swaying before his eyes. He’d cover them with kisses and bites and licks. 

She’s stopped talking, only her heavy breathing fills his ear.

“Please, Han…”  
“I’m close. Are you?”  
“Yes.”  
“I wish we were in that car. I want your mouth at my neck and you grasp on my hips hard enough to bruise.”  
“I want you.” He admits, high on arousal. 

There is that tingle at the base on his spine. His toes curl as he wanks faster. And now he’s imagining Hannah in the room with him, head thrown back in ecstasy. And he aches for it yet pleasure coils in his core.  
He says her name again and again, invoking her. She moans loudly. He spurts all over his hand and the tails of his shirt. He hasn’t come that hard in ages. He basks in it for some time, reluctant to open his eyes and break the spell.

“See, wasn’t so bad.” Hannah chuckles.

He opens his eyes. It’s jarring, this empty, unfamiliar room. Loneliness catches up with him. He’s close to begging her to come to Broadchurch. He needs her. Not for sex, but for who she is. For how she makes him feel.

“You alright?” she asks.  
“Yeah. Erm, thanks? I’ll talk to you later.”  
“Sure, gimme a ring whenever you want.”

If only he could still drive.


End file.
